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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955111">Self-Medicate, Resuscitate</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironkissedfanfics/pseuds/Ironkissedfanfics'>Ironkissedfanfics</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Castiel's Handprint (Supernatural), Explicit Sexual Content, Finale? What Finale?, Fix-It, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, empty rescue, post 15x18, supernatural ending how it should have</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:14:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironkissedfanfics/pseuds/Ironkissedfanfics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas's confession and subsequent death took a much bigger toll on Dean than Supernatural tried to convince us it did. This is how it all should have happened after 15x18.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>203</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Self-Medicate, Resuscitate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! I know it's been a long time since the finale aired, but I'm still not over it! I'll never be over it! So, I finally decided to really write my own fix-it. I hope you enjoy &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He shouldn’t still be able to hear it- that sickening thumping of a hardened fist against wood. The black sludge had long since disappeared from where it manifested minutes - hours? - before, and yet if he were to look up from where his hands were clasped together over his knees he’s sure he would be able to see it there - mocking him much as the recurrent pounding did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had surely been hours; his phone had long since stopped buzzing and the all-encompassing quiet of the room bore a hole in his chest. That emptiness harbored regrets. It held onto remnants of words confessed to him not long ago and taunted him with the words he longed to say - words he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should have </span>
  </em>
  <span>said when he had the chance. There was too much there, and yet still there was nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Limbs went numb the longer he refused to move; legs tucked under his chin held up by shaking arms. His face buried in his knees quickly soaked the jeans from the spillover of regret held in his eyes. He would need to change, maybe even shower, before heading out, but even the thought of getting up from the floor, away from the last place Cas touched him, spoke to him, made his heart ache. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took at least another hour, maybe more he couldn’t tell, to finally look at the now silent phone resting on the cold concrete floor beside him. Sam had called him at least 20 times; he was probably freaking out, or worse, he was hurt. He shouldn’t worry his brother like this; Sam still needed him. The world still needed him. But now the world was gone - sucked away to a husk of nothingness as far from Dean as it could get. The world was dead, cold and sleeping somewhere Dean couldn’t see, couldn’t even hope to reach. He was gone and he took the colour from this earth with him when he went. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about calling Sam, but when he attempted to speak, all that came out were rasped snippets of sound - strangled and broken by the pain wrapped up in a ball in his chest. Instead of talking, Dean typed out a message to his brother. He told him that he was okay and asked him where they were; nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t need his brother worrying about him when God had taken someone from him too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he got up. He dragged himself to his feet and rested his weight on too-sore legs. He wasn’t confident he would even make it to his brother, but he needed to move before Sam decided to come back to the bunker instead. The thought of a shower was enticing, but it had to be forgone; a simple luxury he couldn’t afford himself when he had already wasted far too much time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean ignored the pain behind his ribs; he pushed it down under the surface like he was drowning it in the deep end of a well cared for pool. It would still be there after he made sure his brother was safe. He would let it up to scramble for air when he was alone with a bottle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Baby carried him to the location Sam had messaged to him with ease; she offered condolences in the rumble of her engine, but for once, Dean didn’t care what she had to say. The back seat looked far too empty to hear her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back outside, miles away from the familiar long halls of the bunker and the hauntingly empty room that once held everything he had ever wanted, it was quiet. There were no birds around to sing their agitating bright songs, so the dampened whistle of winds with too much space to roam were the only sounds to be heard. Trees swayed, healthy leaves hanging on tightly to their branches as the greens of them smudged against the bright blue sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean!” came the booming sound of his younger brother’s voice. When he turned, Dean could see him lumbering over, Jack following behind him, brows furrowed in. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does he know?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Sammy.” Dean’s voice was a little better than when he had attempted to call earlier; the breaks were just shorter and less noticeable now. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone’s gone, Dean. Everyone. It was like I blinked and they just disappeared. I think… I think we’re the only ones left.” Sam sounded tired. He sounded worn out and like he was grasping at broken straws for spare scraps of hope. Dean envied even that tiny sliver of light. “Dean… where’s Cas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack stiffened next to Sam when the question spilled from the larger man’s lips. He was stalk-still, straightened out and eyes trained on Dean. He didn’t say a word, but he was screaming at Dean to tell him anything but the truth. Dean wished he could lie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam…” Dean warned. He didn’t want to tell him; he </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell him what happened - not all of it. There was too much. Words he had so desperately wanted to hear had spilled from lips that were taken from him before he could feel them against his own. Gone. Dead. Everything he could have ever wanted had been stripped from him when it was finally within reach. He would ask what kind of God would be so cruel, but he already knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he…?” Jack spoke up; his voice was quiet, nervous. He glanced between Dean and the bloody handprint stained into the shoulder of his jacket. Dean’s eyes met his again and he was swayed by how much Jack looked like Cas now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Things didn’t go as planned.” Dean started; it was a shitty attempt to play it up and dull it down together, enough detail to suffice but not the pieces that belonged to him. He let a tiny laugh escape at how his words sounded just like Cas’s when they had their last fight. If Dean had known about his deal he would like to think he would have forgiven Cas sooner, maybe even not have fought at all. They had slivers of time, then, and he had taken it for granted. What a fool he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Billie wasn’t the one taking people, but she wasn’t too happy that we showed up. We made it back to the bunker-” his voice broke and he had to clear his throat to continue, “Cas got us to a safe room and warded it but it didn’t last. He… Cas saved me. The stupid bastard saved me when he should have saved himself.” He dropped his head, not wanting to see the looks on the faces of the only people left. “He summoned the Empty. It took Billie and it took him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back up at Jack first. The kid’s eyes were frantically searching the ground; physically grabbing pieces of a puzzle and forcing them into place. He was confused and hurt and it all swirled on his features underneath the silent slack of his jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam looked less confused, though Dean doubted that he knew any more than Jack did. His brows pushed together and Dean could feel the hurt radiating between him and his brother. Cas had been around for a long time. He had been their best friend - their only friend - and a saving grace on more than one occasion. It’s likely Sam had seen Cas as a brother, but he had been so much more to Dean and now he was gone. He had left Dean with the broken pieces of his sugar glass heart and hoped he would be able to save the world one more time on nothing but empty bottles and burned out lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… he had a deal?” Jack sounded crushed; an auditory representation of the devastation Dean felt. Wait…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Empty couldn’t take him until he was happy. That was the deal, Dean. Was the happiness worth it?” Sharp words pierced daggers in his chest. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Worth it? Could loving Dean ever be worth Cas’s life? No. Nothing on this Earth or any of the one’s Chuck had destroyed could possibly be worth that. And yet- </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas thought so.” It tumbled out of him, more of a mad dash for hope than a full truth. He may not agree with Cas on this, but Cas’s choice had been his to make and he wasn’t going to rob him or their son of that bitter sweet smile he held while he was dragged away by that sticky black pool. Cas had been happy. It would have to be enough, if only for now - if only to get them all through the coming days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack didn’t have anything to say to that; he simply nodded once before dropping his eyes back to the sun-paled concrete. The pain in the air was palpable. It hung between them like the final question Sam was dying to ask, but couldn’t. It was written clearly on his brother’s face that he wanted to know what could have made Cas happy enough to enact a cosmic deal like that. Deep down, Dean assumed he knew anyway. Sam may not know the details - like how Cas confessed to him, told him he was good, that he was made of love and was loved by him; how Dean had stood there silently, throat working desperately to say something, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to Cas in return but he couldn’t; that he watched in abject horror as the love of his life was ripped from him by long black tendrils- but he knew enough. Cas had given everything to him, for him, and Dean had given him absolutely nothing in return. He couldn’t say all that to Sam. Not now. Maybe not ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam cleared his throat, pulling Dean as much to the present as he currently could stand to be. Wind whipped between them; a cold and pressing reminder that they couldn’t rest yet. That he didn’t have the luxury of time to mourn, to plan, to fight tooth and nail for the only thing that mattered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do we do now?” Jack asked, eyes still trained on the cracks scattered through the pavement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Jack,” Sam responded. He was quiet, drawn in. “but we’ll figure it out, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean watched as Sam crossed over to Jack; he watched as he slung his arm over the kid’s shoulders and began walking him back to the impala. Dean stayed where he was, broken-in boots connected firmly to the ground, blood from the love of his life still stained on his shirt. The sun was out. Warmth danced over his features as he raised his chin towards the sky. He wondered where the Empty even was; if Cas was finally sleeping or if he was awake but alone in that terribly desolate realm. He wondered if Cas would hear him if he prayed just a little bit louder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bunker was too big. It hadn’t grown since he had left it - not physically anyway - but it felt bigger. The kitchen table was empty. Cas hadn’t made it back. Not that Dean had been holding onto the hope that this was all some big practical joke and Cas would just be waiting in the kitchen with a beer for him, all smiles and entirely free of that dark black sludge. No, he hadn’t been hoping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean?” Sam spoke; if it hadn’t been for his brother’s hand connecting with his elbow, Dean might not have even heard him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna turn in, Sammy.” Dean started walking away, not to his room though. Instead, he walked further into the kitchen, hands seeking out the half emptied whiskey bottles that were settled onto the shelves. He was sure he heard Sam sigh, but if he had something to say, he kept it to himself as Dean loaded bottles into his arms and hauled off to his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind the safety of the bedroom door, Dean let it hit him. Sharp whiskies slid down his throat in harsh gulps as he struggled to breathe. He had never had a panic attack before, so he couldn’t be sure that this was one, but as staccato bouts of air filled his lungs at an increasing pace to keep up with the liquor, he was sure this was the closest he had ever come to one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bottles steadily emptied and were left discarded around the room. He looked through his drawers; he needed to see Cas again. He felt off, lopsided as he dug through old stained pictures in search of one in particular. He had meant to keep it in his wallet earlier, but it got tossed in here after printing in a rush and he hadn’t gotten around to it. Fingers slid over worn images, photos of his brother, of his mom and his dad, but nowhere was the picture he needed. Figures that would be gone too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean ignored the prickling at his eyes; he ignored the wet feeling that slid down his cheeks. He opened another bottle and paid attention to that burn instead. It was familiar; it tasted like every bad night he’d ever had. Like every funeral pyre and burning building seared into his brain. Like sharp bone in the palm of his hand lit up by a brand as old as time. Fire in his veins ran through him like every nightmare or tattered memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his eyes slid shut, reddened and puffy already, he hoped that’s all this was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no way to tell how long he had been asleep. The clock that used to so diligently inform him of the time was no longer on his nightstand, but in pieces on the floor. Funny, he hadn’t remembered doing that. There were other broken things mixed in - mostly bottles and whiskey-dampened pictures. Even in the morning, head ringing but vision clearer, the one he had been looking for was nowhere to be seen. He wanted to look again but he got up for a refill instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam was in the kitchen, ass planted in the old creaky seats at the table and a mostly emptied plate sitting next to his open laptop. Dean wanted to turn around, cower back into his room so he didn’t have to face him, but the shuffle of his boots gave him away and Sam twisted his head up to look at him. Pity was not a look Dean Winchester had ever wanted to see, most especially from his little brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean…” Sam started but quickly trailed off. It seemed even his know-it-all little brother didn’t have anything to say. Go figure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Mornin, Sammy.” Dean huffed, making quick work of the space between the doorway and the fridge. He didn’t want more whiskey; just a beer. Beer was breakfast, whiskey was dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam sighed as he watched Dean pull more than one chilled bottle from the fridge. A sight that apparently gave him the courage to finish his earlier thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss him, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pain pinballed around in Dean’s head from how fast he turned. The fire was back, but instead of running through his veins, so hot it almost felt more like ice than flames, it was in his chest, his stomach. “Don’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You think you’re the only one allowed to miss him? He was my friend too, Dean. He was our brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam, I said don’t.” Dean gritted out, beers clutched in his hands as they began to sweat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I lost Eileen.” Sam pushed on, turning in his chair to face Dean more directly. “I loved her, and I lost her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean abandoned the beers on the counter, voting instead to grasp tightly at the edge of the counter. It was warmer than the bottles, more solid and steady under his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think this is any different?” His voice was raised now, grumbling out as tears threatened him again. He refused to let them fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it’s different, Dean!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not!” Dean had had enough of this conversation. The beers would be getting warmer by the second and as much as he wanted those to be enough, maybe it was a dinner-for-breakfast kind of day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it is!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. It is different, Sammy. You know why? You got to tell her. At least she knew you loved her.” Dean grabbed both beers and another bottle of whiskey from the shelf. Sam made a choked noise as he gathered his drinks but Dean had no desire to see the look on his brother’s face. All he wanted to see was the back of his eyelids as the liquor pulled him back for a nice nap. That’s what he wanted. So that’s exactly what he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam waited a whole two days before knocking on Dean’s door. He hadn’t seen his brother leave the room even once since their fight, but he was hoping he just managed to miss him. He hoped Dean had eaten or showered or anything other than sitting in his bed or at his desk or on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished he would have said something earlier, before Dean was able to slink out of the kitchen and lock himself away in his room. If he had been braver, he would have, but Dean - Sam had never seen him so hurt. The only time that came close was when the last pyre they started had been Cas’s. History was repeating itself in the worst way and they didn’t even have a body to burn this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere, somehow, Sam had always known his brother loved Cas. Dean didn’t need to say it; it was written in that far-away look in his eyes. The way his eyes dimmed like lovers lost in Shakespearean tragedies. He’d seen attempts at recreating that pain in motel room reruns but there was no actor in the world good enough to portray that look. Dean was in love and Cas was gone. There was nothing on this earth he could hope to say that could make that better, but he could apologize for earlier, so that’s what he was going to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From inside the room, tangled up in twisted sheets lay Dean. He was awake, but only because the T.V. had gone static, a soft buzz to accompany his own buzz and bring sour thoughts down to a simmer. Dean had never snapped back to himself faster than when he heard that knock; a deafening, stomach-churning knock. Knuckles on wood that threatened to take Cas from him again pounded at the only barrier he had left. The booze in his stomach wanted to make a reappearance - it almost did - until Sam swung the door open wide, large body filling up the doorway as he was silhouetted by the hallway lights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s room was dark; he hadn’t managed to turn the light back on when he crawled in here the night before after a desperate trip to the bathroom. Rest stops were about the only thing he had accomplished over the last two days and that alone had been a feat. But it was dark now, and the light behind his brother was so bright it made his head pound harder than the knocks on their doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sammy?” It didn’t even sound like his own voice crawling from his throat. He wasn’t sure he even said anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam didn’t say anything either, he just walked in and pulled Dean’s arm over his shoulder. Dean didn’t have the energy in him to protest, so despite being thoroughly blinded by  high set hallway lights, he held onto his brother and let him guide him from his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam walked them down the hall and towards the kitchen. Neither of them said a word as Dean was deposited into one of the chairs. Dean tried not to think about the fact that Cas was the last one to sit in this one; that the last time he saw him in this seat he was laughing and smiling. He thought about it anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” Sam said, taking Dean off guard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Dean’s voice sounded just a little better; marginally more like himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know, Dean, and I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean didn’t really want to talk about this. Sam dragged him from his stupor and he knows he should thank him but those words didn’t taste right. Thank you or no thank you, Sam must have found something on Chuck or he would have left him to stew longer than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Sam. I get it; we’ve got work to do. Killing God and all that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam, enough.” The movement in his seat made his head swim but he needed to face his brother and - </span>
  <em>
    <span>what? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Where did that come from?” Dean stood up, his chair rubbing the ground with an ungodly noise as his knees became a little wobbly. His eyes were glued to the front door of the fridge. It hadn’t been there when he came in here two days ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The picture? Jack found it under the stairs. He wanted to put it on the fridge; I thought it was a good idea, you know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean gulped and stepped forward. His feet carried him there despite his worries and in a moment what he had been scouring his room for for days was in his hands. Cas, all dressed up in that ridiculous cowboy getup Dean made him wear when they got him back. When </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> got him back. Why hadn’t Dean told him he loved him then? Why did he waste their time fighting and dancing around each other as if they were the same people the other met in that barn? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no way to tell when he had started crying, but Sam was pulling him into a hug and the shoulder where his head lay was getting wet under his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll get him back.” Sam said; he sounded far away even though he was so close. The world muffled without Cas - he realized that now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t.” Dean doesn’t know what propelled him to say that, but no matter how hard he wanted to have hope, Cas had made a deal and loopholes for deals that big were </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>easy to find. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, crying in the kitchen as he clutched onto the last remnant of Cas besides the blood dried into his jacket, Dean decided to believe him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t but a few days later when things came to a head on their own. They didn’t even have to leave the bunker to find it; it came knocking on their door masked in Cas’s voice. Lucifer once again had a sick sense of humour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything just seemed to happen around him after that. Despite their attempts, Lucifer came in. He spouted shit about reapers and Death’s book and Dean was just thankful he kept Cas’s voice out of his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael had come to them earlier with offers to help after their failed attempt to sway God. Since even an Archangel couldn’t open Death’s book, there was little to do besides see what Lucifer had. Of course, that was a bust, too. God’s favourites fought it out in their library and Michael just barely won that battle. The book was open, but there was nothing there to see. Fortunately, they got much more out of that Heavenly squarmish than they could have hoped and after a quick talk with Jack, they finally had a plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything went swimmingly after that; Michael got cheated, God thought he won - even landed quite a few hits - but in the end, they did it. Each wave of power that God hit them with, Jack stole. Hidden away during the fight, their child was the bravest he could be. By the time they left Chuck, he was a shell of man. No cosmic energy dancing under his fingertips; no world-bending powers to control them or anyone else ever again. In the impala, wheels turning tracks in the pavement as they sped into town, Dean let himself smile. It hadn’t been the victory he wanted, but it was one they needed. One the world needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in town, the businesses were bustling. Cars drove down the street opposite them, led by smiling driver’s holding the hand of their passenger seat lovers. Dogs were playing in the field together, longingly being chased by squealing children and watched over by attentive parents on park benches. The world was back; good for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second they were out of the car and Sam had firmly established a cell signal, he called Eileen. Dean watched his brother’s face as relief poured over him. He was all smiles; a big goofy grin on his mouth as he signed things to her over the video chat. He had his phone propped up on the hood of Baby and he had to squint as the sun poked at his eyes. She was safe; everyone was safe. Everyone besides Cas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean didn’t wait up for Sam, choosing instead to lead Jack into the diner. The sign talked up their milkshakes so he ordered the largest chocolate one for Jack the second the waitress came around. He declined when she asked if he wanted anything; he didn’t think he could eat if he tried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking,” Jack started, pausing only because the tall shake slid into his vision. He didn’t finish his sentence right away; he reveled into sweet taste on his tongue and Dean couldn’t fault him for it. Sitting across from him, watching their son develop a milkshake mustache as the warm light streamed through the blinds in soft streaks plastered on the table, Jack looked more like Cas than Dean had ever noticed. The way he grinned, how he held himself. If this was the only way to see Cas again, he would take it. He would find a way to make up for all the pain he caused and he would be there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking,” Jack started one more time, “Does this make </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> God now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean blinked. “Uhh… I guess so? Listen, Jack, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’m really ready for something like that, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean let out a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been aware he was holding. Jack was good - Dean knew it for sure by now - but that didn’t mean he wanted his son to be God; he wasn’t even four years old for crying out loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… what do you think you’ll do?” Dean asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think… I think I’ll get Aunt Amara back. She’s with me too. She never got a shot at this either and I think she’d be pretty good at it, you know?” Jack took a long drink of his shake after that and Dean wasn’t really sure what to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amara had been tricked by them the last they saw her; would she forgive that? Would she even want to be around after everything that had happened? Would she-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean.” Jack tilted his head and </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn it</span>
  </em>
  <span> if he didn’t look exactly like Cas. “She says no hard feelings.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam joined them then, still grinning as he plopped down next to Dean. Between the time he sat down and when the waitress brought Sam’s shake to the table, they filled him in. There hadn’t been many developments - just the one big one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, back at the bunker where it was safe, Jack did exactly what he had hoped to do. He set Amara free and after a little discussion - she had only ever wanted to see this world, never to control it; she promised she’d be about, maybe on earth, maybe in Heaven, maybe so far away in the cosmos she would barely hear distant prayers, but she’d be there - Jack passed what he took from Chuck to her. Amara could take it from here; it was time for Jack to get to be a kid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until after she had gone and they tucked Jack into bed with promises to figure out how to enroll him in school, that Dean let himself back down. Sam turned in too; after speaking with Eileen, she had promised to stay at the bunker for a little while, so Sam wanted to be up in time to make her breakfast when she got there in the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alone in the kitchen, Dean saw Cas’s photo on the fridge again. Last time, seeing him there had been too much. It hurt him in a way that is impossible to describe. This time didn’t feel much different except for the significant lack of additional distractions to plague his brain. The last big bad had been dealt with. Yeah sure, there would be more hunts - there would always be a monster somewhere - but no more world-ending apocalypses to fuddle the mind. There was just him and a significant lack of Cas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean pulled two beers from the fridge, but only one was for him. He pulled the picture from the fridge and set it against the tucked in chair where he used to sit. The other cold beer was placed in front of it and Dean sat down in his usual seat. One more beer. He would have one more beer with the man he loves before shelving the rest in the back of the fridge. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> one more fight and Dean would be damned if he didn’t at least try to get him back. Tonight, he shared a drink with a picture that couldn’t open his own beer; tomorrow, well, tomorrow Dean will hit every book that’s ever been written and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> find a way to get him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam found him the next morning sleeping in a chair in the library. There were a few empty beer bottles around him and the picture that was missing from the fridge sat just beside the opened books scattered across the table. He smiled at his brother and decided to make a little extra breakfast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dean woke up, it was to the delicious smell of bacon. His back hurt; it ached worse than any damage a motel bed had ever given him, but a night spent in a chair was worth the work. He hadn’t found anything overnight, but then again, he hadn’t expected to find success in the first books he picked up. He had spent a few hours combing through texts, skimming through all the words in search of just one: Empty. If there was anything hidden away in this massive station of knowledge, then he was damn sure going to find it. Just, after breakfast. Dean grabbed the photo on the table and tucked it away in the pocket of his shirt before he got up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean hadn’t eaten in days, at least, not a proper meal. Sam had forced his fries on him everywhere they stopped, but Dean hadn’t managed to ever order anything for himself. He had a bowl of cereal per Jack’s request a morning ago, but until now it felt like his stomach had been putting him on hold. Now though, as the smell of bacon wafted from the kitchen to his nose, he was hungry. Ravenous, more like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Mornin’, Sammy.” He said as he came into the kitchen. His nose led him directly to the cooling plate of bacon Sam was slowly stocking up and he didn’t wait for a response before stealing a piece. It was hot - probably too hot to eat for anyone else, but he’d live; it was bacon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re chipper.” Sam observed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> making breakfast; your point?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha- How is that related?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sammy, have you ever made breakfast in your life? Let alone bacon?” Dean asked between swallows. He had to admit, it was pretty good bacon. His brother hadn’t burned it at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I have!” Sam huffed, turning back towards the pan. Despite his retort, he was smiling, so Dean just swiped another piece of bacon and settled down into one of the seats at the table. For once, he would let Sam cook and he would simply sit and wait. The picture found its way out of his pocket to rest in his hands. He’ll hold Cas better than this when he gets him back, but for now, this would have to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s for breakfast?” said Jack, stepping barefoot into the kitchen and rubbing at his eyes. His pajamas had little bumblebees on them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did Cas get him those?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“A bit of everything, kiddo. Go ahead and sit; Eileen should be here soon too. ‘Said she was on her way a bit ago.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” Jack took a seat across from him. Dean tried to ignore the soft smile on his face as he caught him with the photo in his hands. In a second, Dean tucked it back in his pocket and tried to will the heat out of his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a ‘speak of the Devil’ kind of moment, a loud knock resounded from the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I got it!” Jack pushed out his seat so fast, taking no time to move from the kitchen up the stairs to the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were greetings and hugs (and a few kisses given by Sam as he ignored the cooking pancakes) and in no time they were all seated at the table. Dean tried to keep his smile up while Eileen sat in the empty chair he had shared a beer with last night. The food was good; whether that was because his little brother had actually managed to pick up a few skills at some point or because Dean was just so hungry that even bad food tasted amazing, he wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, he cleaned his plate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was laughter in the room; discussions of the future. Jack had told Eileen all about wanting to start school and she had given him a lot of encouragement. Sam offered for Eileen to move into the bunker and despite the recent apocalypse, she still asked for time to think about it. Sam didn’t push, but even with his back to him and the sound of the sink running over soapy dishes muffling what he could hear, Dean could tell his brother was a little disappointed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam talked about turning the bunker into a real hub for hunters. He wanted it to be a main base of sorts; a place where nearby hunters could rest and recharge somewhere safe and where he could be the center of information. He gushed over the amount of knowledge here, untapped and tucked away in dusted over books, and how he was going to work on getting everything up into a digitally accessible space. He mentioned Bobby’s old tricks manning the phones and how this place was perfect for a more smoothly run version of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean had to agree that his brother was born to lead. This would suit him - guiding other hunters, keeping them informed, safe. There would be plenty for him to do from here and if he ever managed to convince that wildfire spirit Eileen seemed to have into settling down in here, he would practically be set for life. Dean had to admit that he liked the look of that life for his brother more than him still hunting himself. Sam would be safer in here; no vampires or werewolves to take him by surprise behind underground walls. It was good. It would be right for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eileen brought up her last hunt before everything went down. She didn’t talk about how it felt to be gone - if she even could have felt it. None of them were about to press her for questions on it either. But Dean, Dean didn’t talk much. He laughed along as he did the dishes and he hummed a response when something was directed at him. He couldn’t hope or theorize over the future the same way they could. All he knew was that he was going to find a way to get to Cas, but that was as far as he had gotten. No specifics, no plan, just the books in the other room. To say he had hope would be too generous. He had will, not hope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After breakfast, Dean returned to the library. He had never in his life been the one to hit the books, but he would be sure to go back to a life free of research once he figured all of this out. He poured over book after book, scanning and skimming for the one key word he needed, but he had no luck. He didn’t join the others for lunch, but this time it was less because he couldn’t eat and more because he hadn’t realized the time. It wasn’t until hours later, huddled over the 30-something-th book that day that he even noticed Sam come into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Workin’ hard, or hardly workin’?” Sam asked, a huff in his words to emphasize his lighthearted tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Dean pulled his head out of the book to look up at his brother. If Sam looked this tired, Dean wondered how bad he looked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam pulled out the chair next to him and took a seat; nonchalantly sliding one of the open books spread out on the table closer to himself for glazing over. “What are you looking for?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well that was a question and a half, wasn’t it? Other meanings folded into the framework set up for the general viewer. He was looking for answers. He was looking for a specific word in an endless stream of sentences as if it was a needle tucked away in a haystack. He was looking for the man he loved. For the thing that took him. For a way to get him back. And he was looking for the tiniest shred of evidence any of that could even be possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything on the Empty. Figure there’s gotta be something in one of these old things.” A safe answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good place to start. I’ll break out the laptop after dinner. Eileen should be back soon with burgers; you joining?” Sam leafed through a few pages, but it was clear he wasn’t actually looking for anything in it. If Dean hadn’t already scoured that book beforehand he’d have been pissed at him for losing his place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t turn down a good burger, now can I?” It didn’t sound as light as he tried to make it out to be, but Sam didn’t seem to mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another meal came and went with all chairs full but the room still empty. Dean wasn’t sure how he had ever managed to be okay with Cas constantly being gone before. There were so many times that Cas wasn’t with them at the bunker, and while it had occasionally bothered him, the sheer emptiness of the room without him felt much bigger now. Untouchable. Lead heavy like his loaded pistol but strung from the rafters; a constant threat to fall and crush him into the floor. Sometimes, he wished it just would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dinner, Sam helped him look through a few of the books he had left out earlier. The laptop was pulled out and they looked through sources together in silence. Another few hours passed where neither of them found anything and soon enough, Sam turned in. Eileen was staying over after all; it made sense he should go be with her and not end up asleep in a rickety chair alone. When he left, he told Dean to be sure he turned in soon; reminded him that he had a bed to sleep in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to - he really did - but there was something else he needed to do. Once the bunker had settled into its eerie after midnight silence, Dean got up. Despite still having his boots on, he stepped down the hallway quietly, hoping to not wake Jack or Sam and Eileen. He walked past the bedrooms, past storage rooms that contained more of the same bull shit that was strewn about the library. The door was open, like he had left it. He wasn’t sure why he had expected it to be closed; as if Cas had clicked it shut behind them when he followed him out like he always did. But Dean knew Cas hadn’t followed him out; that was why the door still hung open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A step inside, the air felt heavier. The burnt out sigil still scarred onto the back of the door as a failed final line of defense. It mocked him. Laughed at his misfortune under the swirling blood of love lost. Then there was the other wall. The far wall. Clean, unmarked. No sign of there ever having been black sludge oozing from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean stepped closer and lifted his hand to it. He felt the firm press of the solid wall against his palm. There’s no way Cas could have gone through there. He could feel it under his fingers, sturdy as before, no way to tell that it had opened up and swallowed him. He pounded his fist against it once, twice. The third time his hand connected, a strangled sound tore unbidding from his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why had it taken him? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crack! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why did Cas make that deal? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Boom! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Why would Cas save him like that? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thunk!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you take me too?!” He yelled to the empty space. The air felt electric, charged up like was the outlet in the wall. He could feel where Cas had been; where he no longer was. He could hear the way Cas spoke, the things he said. He wanted to hear it again. He wanted to hear Cas’s voice in his ears, soft and reassuring before the end. To hear the way he threw caution into the wind to give Dean everything he could have ever wanted in this God-forsaken world before throwing it into darkness. He wanted - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand stung in pain as he let it fall to his side. He wasn’t sure if he was bleeding; though it was likely, it wasn’t his concern. Cas was taken here. Cas said everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>right here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Here, in the dungeon room. The dungeon room they had cameras in. Dean’s head swiveled upwards, eyes seeking out the device in a desperate need to assure himself it was there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could see Cas again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just once, and he could go to bed. Just one time, Cas’s words against him again, and he could close his eyes and rest. Just once. This time when he left, he closed the door behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had left the laptop out for him, but when he came back into the library, he wasn’t there for research. It didn’t take him but a minute to pull up the feed from the dungeon. I looked just as he left it moments ago - quiet, dim, empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He searched through the log; went back over a week - had it really been over a week now? He caught them coming into the room together, his arm laid overtop Cas’s shoulder. He watched as Cas dug a knife from his back pocket and sliced into his palm to stain the door with his blood. They moved further in; the pain in his chest had subsided by then because of Cas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he was talking; going on about how he had gotten them into this mess and how he was going to have to watch Cas die before he did - well, that part he had gotten right. He listened as Cas remembered his deal; as Cas wondered aloud what it could have been that could ever truly make him happy. Tears stung his eyes and there was no way to stop them from rolling down his cheeks. There was no way he could look away or move to swipe them from his face. Cas was talking; he was saying his name in that sad whiskey voice and Dean could barely breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The image of Cas repeated what he said before. He told him that he was made of love; that everything he had ever done, he had done for love. Echoes fell from obscured lips and Dean wished more than anything that Cas had been the one facing the camera. It hurt to not see him looking at him, but hearing him would be enough. If this was all he could ever get again, it would have to be enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Past Cas pushed on, spilling the truth that this was a goodbye. Dean felt the break in his heart fracture again, split down the unhealed inseam to the sound of his voice. Then -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. I love you. I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean wanted to scream at himself to say it back. He wanted to reach through the screen and smack the words out of his mouth. “And I, you, Cas.” he would say. “I love you, too.” “I’ve always loved you.” “I love you.” “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn’t - he couldn’t. Past him played it out the same way. He said nothing at all. Stunned and desperate, he couldn’t speak. He hated himself for that. He couldn’t see it through the pixelated screen, but he knew Cas smiled at him then. The icky black mass appeared, bubbling up from the middle of the wall just as Death finally opened the door she had been knocking on. It happened so slowly if you were watching, but then, it was merely the blink of an eye and Cas was gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean closed the laptop. His eyes stung; the pressure behind them told him to let the tears fall, so he did. There was no strength to fight that anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of going to bed, Dean picked up another book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no way to tell how many times he watched that video after that. It became a nightly occurrence to hear Cas’s voice again. Day after day Sam helped him with research and night after night he was left alone with nothing but a recording of the last time. He was pretty sure Sam had been in the other room one of the nights he played it more than once, but if he heard anything, he hadn’t felt the need to come in and say something about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took another week after that to find something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sammy!” Dean yelled, voice hoarse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam scrambled into the room, a mix of hope and fear washing over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Did you find something?” He stepped across the room in a few easy bound, coming up beside Dean to peek at the text in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here. Look.” Dean pointed to a paragraph about three-fourths of the way down the page. It wasn’t much, but it was something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is another place,” Sam read aloud, “that things end up. Humans don’t end up there, but demons do. The Empty.” Sam paused for a minute before turning sad eyes down at his brother. “Dean, that’s great, but we already know it exists.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean knocked him on the back of his head and motioned with his own back down towards the page. “Would you just keep going, you oaf?” Sam looked at him for a second, eyebrows drawn together before conceding his brother’s request.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So far, we have found no way to access this place, though we believe that it could be possible if there were a way to open a portal.” Sam looked back at Dean again who was now wearing a soft smile on his lips. “Dean, this still isn’t much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but who do we know that has opened portals before? And even if the kid can’t open a hatch into a place like that, there’s gotta be a spell. It’s possible, Sam. It’s possible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could almost see hope in his brother’s eyes. He picked up his laptop and joined the search again. When he opened it up, it was on the same page it had been on almost every time he had come back to it in the mornings. He knew what it was, but no matter how curious he was to know the details, he closed out of the tab anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few tries, it was clear Jack couldn’t open the portal alone. So, they went back to searching. It was tedious, worse than any quick knowledge needed on a hunt. Eventually though, they found it. It would work, Dean was sure of it. It only took an additional few days to track down the necessary ingredients that weren’t already stocked in the bunker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure this is going to work?” came the skeptical voice of his brother. Sam wasn’t convinced it would be enough. He was sure this was a failure waiting to happen. Dean knew it wasn’t. He could feel it in his bones that it was right. And if he was wrong - if he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrong and something happened to him - that would be okay, too. He was tired, and without Cas, without at least being able to tell him back, he just wanted to rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no need to worry about all of that though, because this was going to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam mixed the items in a bowl and Dean held out his palm as Sam dragged a sharp blade over it. A bright stream of crimson fell from his hand like a waterfall nearly suspended in time and the air crackled around them. They both looked to Jack and watched him nod before raising his own untorn palm towards the ceiling. They spoke together, strings of syllables he couldn’t possibly understand falling from their lips in unison. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room got brighter; a miniature sun exploded into the room only to be thinned out into a sharp line that split the air. Just like before, but this time it would lead him to Cas. It would lead Cas home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember, Dean, there’s still a price.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence hung between them as the portal crackled and popped. There was a soft heat radiating from it and it seemed to have a gravitational pull of its own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ready?” Sam asked behind him. Dean had already stepped forward, fingers almost gracing the searing white light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Sammy. I’m ready.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back at his brother and they nodded to each other. A silent ‘good luck’ was passed from Sam and a returning ‘thank you’ was said right back. With a deep breath, a big pull of the last air he would ever want to taste without Cas by his side, Dean reached forward and felt the fire in his fingertips as the world fell away into nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean was sure that his eyes were open. He even brought his hands up to his face to check for himself. There was nothing in this place besides the wavering beacon at his back; there were no stones to turn, no dirt under his feet and no sky above him. It was just Empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was empty and he had no idea where to start looking. He started walking anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gut told him not to yell. The desire to scream for Cas the second he opened his eyes to pitch darkness had been extreme, but he couldn’t. His presence may already be enough to wake the entity, but if it wasn’t he sure as Hell wasn’t about to take any chances. He needed to find Cas. He needed time; time that he wouldn’t get if the Empty woke up and threw him out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Dean prayed. He didn’t care whether his eyes stayed open or if they fell closed because there wasn’t much of a difference anyway. His breathing was ragged and his mouth felt dry, but he kept on stepping and he kept on praying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He called for Cas; pushed that longing from his pores and into the negative space around him. He didn’t look for Cas -  he </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> for him. Every step was taken carefully; every word spoken inside his head with an intensity he had never used for prayer before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas’s name dripped from his heart, fell from behind his ribs instead of from his lips. He played images of home, of the bunker, of the kitchen table filled by everyone they loved </span>
  <em>
    <span>including</span>
  </em>
  <span> Cas. Photographs and mental stills projected onto the dodgy screens in abandoned theaters. The picture in his pocket felt warm, and for the first time in well over a month now, Dean smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas.” he breathed. He didn’t even need to see him to know he was laying at his feet, but he looked anyway. Still in that same old trench coat he used to wear, he slept. His chest rose and fell in time with his breaths as if he had never really died in the first place. Maybe he hadn’t, but Dean couldn’t think about that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All that was in his brain was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cas. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cas was here. Cas was safe. He was asleep and comfortable and </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Cas. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cas. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Falling to his knees, Dean fought off the tears. He placed his arms around Cas’s sleeping frame and hauled him up into his lap. Cas was solid. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was here. Dean ran his fingers through dark hair and choked out a sound of relief. Palm against Cas’s cheek, Dean prayed harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though no words were ever spoken, Dean said more than he thought he would get the chance to. Dean asked Cas to wake up; he prodded at his pointed features now softly slacked in slumber. It took until he was begging through walled-off tears for Cas to stir.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean…?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean opened his eyes and there were those blue water irises staring back at him. How could he have ever let a lighthouse lead him to land when the sea was where he was meant to be? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas, hey, hey, buddy. It’s okay.” Dean didn’t remove his hand from his hair or the other palm from his cheek. He couldn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean, what - what are you doing here?” Cas started to sit up and feeling him slip from his grasp was the second worst thing Dean had ever felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here to take you home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas held his gaze, worry and confusion clouding his features as he visibly tried to piece it together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean, what did you do?” Cas’s voice was harsh, demanding, but it wasn’t cold. Under the fear, Dean could still hear that same voice that told him he loved him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, nothing yet.” he tried sheepishly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t be here, Dean. You need to get out of here before the Empty wakes up again. They could-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas blinked. “What - Dean, you cannot be this stupid, just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me bottom line it for you;” Dean watched Cas gulp at the familiar line, “I’m not leaving here without you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas stared at him for a moment, ocean fighting the shore in the middle of a storm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made a deal, Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what part of this confuses you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of it, because I’m not confused, Cas. Would you just listen to me!” Dean hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but for fuck’s sake he hadn’t expected such a push back to his rescue. He had pictured another confession, them holding onto each other in a way they had never been able to before, maybe he even would have had the balls to kiss him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas looked around, more fear on his face than anything else now and he would hate himself if he really woke the Empty now - now, when he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so damn close</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas, I didn’t come here without a plan, alright?” he started again, this time voice hushed. “The Empty made a deal with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, Cas looked around, waiting for Dean to elaborate. Then, “Yes, Dean, I am perfectly aware that I made a deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, but the Empty made a deal with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Dean put a little more emphasis on the word this time, but it wasn’t landing in Cas’s head the way he had hoped. “They made a deal with angel you, Cas. They wanted you here, right? Where angels and demons sleep? Cas, humans don’t stay here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another pause as Dean watched the final puzzle pieces fall into place for him. “So… you think that the deal still holds if I am technically still here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded, eyes searching Cas’s in a poor attempt to discern his verdict. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want to Cas, you can come home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s when Dean pulled the angel blade from the inside of his jacket. Cas looked between it and Dean a few times before his decision was made. He took the blade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It probably felt heavy in his hands; the unfortunate weight of another choice always did. Dean pulled out a little vial he had tied around his neck and held it out. The lid got unscrewed and Cas took in a deep breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish you could keep it.” he said, voice so soft Dean barely heard it at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could respond to what took him too long to register, Cas slid the end of the blade across the bottom of his throat. Beautiful silky blue light spilled from the gash; it danced from the wound, instinctively flowing towards the open vial in Dean’s fist. It filled slowly, ice blue tendrils coiling from the throat of an angel to reside in a glass urn meant to be left behind. By the time the last wisp abandoned his body, Dean was able to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t much, but it was the truth. He hadn’t wanted Cas to give it up in the first place; it had been a dilemma he dealt with since finding the spell. Now, seeing it swirling around in a capped bottle as if it was a gift shop attraction, he wanted to keep it for himself, too. When he came here, he only hoped to offer Cas the choice. If Cas said no, if that was too high of a price to spend to come home with him, he would have understood. It would have hurt like a bitch, but he would have gotten to see him one last time; he would have gotten to say his part. But now that Cas had paid the price, evidenced by the grace left hoping in his palm, he couldn’t get the proper words out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go home.” Dean spoke, voice barely above a whisper. Cas’s hand was red at his throat but he nodded anyway. Dean had the urge to carry him, to walk him over the threshold of that portal like newlyweds do when they get home from the altar, but Cas walked ahead of him towards the only thing in this dark void that there was to see. Dean followed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the portal, Cas stopped. His hand was already raised, but it stayed there; suspended in the air as he turned his eyes towards Dean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you win?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Win what? The fight against God? Against himself? Against the weight of the world never falling from his shoulders despite beating the monster at the end of the book? Or did he win Cas? The words he spoke that seemed so long ago now? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Cas, we won.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas smiled, a warm, </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> smile; one that made Dean’s heart flutter in his chest at the stark contrast to the scarlet seeping into the collar of his shirt. Cas’s grace was still in his hand - it was time to leave it behind. Dean placed it on the ground between their feet and met Cas’s gaze to be sure. Cas nodded, and touched the strip of light beside them, vanishing from the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, the empty felt right. Cas didn’t belong here, and with the world clicking into place around him, Dean followed the man he loved through the shining tear in the only universe left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other side of the empty, Dean met his family. In the library, all the books were where he left them; open and sorted through and scattered across the room. Remnants of a spell now disbanded lay in a bowl resting on the table. And there, beside the chair he spent many sleepless nights in, was Cas; his arms wrapped tightly around Jack’s shoulders as their son wept into his neck. Sam joined the embrace; long arms coming around both Cas and Jack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was what he fought for. This is what they have all died for at one point or another. Family; by blood or by luck, Dean finally had his family. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> was home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you gonna get in on this?” Sam teased with a grin, his head resting on top of Jack’s. Dean was helpless in that moment. His feet carried him from where the rip in reality used to be at his back towards the people he loved the most. He wrapped his arms around Cas and Jack from the side opposite of Sam. Everything would finally be okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If you had asked Dean before he set off on his exhibition to save Cas whether he would be locked behind the closed door of his bedroom, stuck in an endless loop of pacing and stuck on how to tell Cas he loved him, he would have thought you crazy. That Dean would have told you that he could be a romantic if he tried; that he would have confessed the second Cas opened his eyes. He would say that nothing could have held him back from </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> speaking his side of this mixtape labelled ‘truth’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that Dean would also have been wrong. He hadn’t told Cas he loved him the second he came to. He hadn’t even told him while they were still alone in the empty. He didn’t say it when they got back to the rest of the family or over dinner that night. Or at any of the many small opportunities he has had over the last few days since the rescue. He would say that none of those times had felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> to say it, but that also wouldn’t be true. Every second he was around Cas it felt right to say it; to tell him. And yet, the words had yet to come out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For example, when Dean had made Cas breakfast the other day. He cooked up pancakes and bacon - the breakfast of champions. There were plenty of toppings and he made sure to make Cas’s plate for him so he wouldn’t have to. He placed the food in front of Cas and sat with him while he ate. Still, he didn’t say much. He was sure that his face had turned beet red; he could feel how warm his cheeks had gotten. They ate together and Dean couldn’t say it. Oh, sure, he said something; he didn’t sit quietly. But, whatever he wanted to say always seemed to come out as a joke or a snide comment about something or other. When Cas left the kitchen that morning, he had paused at the door, mouth open for a moment as if he had something to say, but then he abandoned it and walked out instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean had been doing a lot of stupid shit like that lately. His lips had constantly been on the verge of ‘I love you’, yet it continued to betray him. He needed to find the right time - no, he needed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>make</span>
  </em>
  <span> the right time. He could set something up; nothing too fancy, but a dinner up on the roof maybe? Meal lit up by the stars instead of candles. Cas would like that, right? What if he- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A knock stopped his tirade of thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean?” Cas’s voice floated through the door. Dean froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I come in? I… I would like to talk to you about something.” There it was. Dean was done for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure buddy.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Buddy?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Now was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the time to call him </span>
  <em>
    <span>buddy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas opened the door slowly, eyes averted. Dean hadn’t noticed that Cas had started picking up nervous habits before now but he was wringing his hands together in front of him and Dean was doing everything in his power to not let it make him more nervous than he already was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… Thank you.” Cas started. Dean breathed in to say something back but Cas kept going. “For getting me out of that place. You didn’t have to do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean stood up from the bed. He was not about to do this when they weren’t on the same footing. “Yes, I did. We need you here, Cas.” Here he goes; he could do this. He could tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas’s face falls. “Oh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.” Cas ran his hand over his stubble and Dean just wanted to kiss that look off of his face. Cas shouldn’t look like that. He shouldn’t be clouded over by whatever was running through his mind. “Dean, I-” He paused again but Dean found himself hanging onto every word. Just like last time, he couldn’t say a damn thing. “I understand if you wish to forget about what I said before, but I meant it. I love you. But I am content with this. I am happy just to be here. I just - I thought you should know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, No no no </span>
  <em>
    <span>no.</span>
  </em>
  <span> This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Dean was supposed to be confessing to him. He was supposed to be kissing him and holding him and </span>
  <em>
    <span>loving </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. Cas was supposed to be smiling against his mouth right now, not walking out of his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, for the second time, Cas loved him and left him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next few days passed with words dancing fire on his tongue as they orbited around each other. Cas didn’t say anything more after that and Dean hadn’t been able to get the wool out of his mouth. Dean cooked, everyone ate, and Cas went back to his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There hadn’t even been any hunts lately that Dean could take to get his mind off of things. Every time something came up it was far enough away that Sam put another hunter on it before Dean could call dibs. So, if Dean was stewing in his room trying to figure out how to get himself out of this current situation, then sue him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had cycled through all his ideas a few times that night - the dinner on the roof idea was still his favourite - before he got frustrated again. Scribbled on papers got tossed across the room into the bin in the corner. None of it was good. How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to tell the one person that meant more to him than anything that he loved him too? It should be the easiest thing in the world and yet he had let Cas float through the bunker the last few days believing that he didn’t love him back. How could he not? After everything they’ve been through? How could Cas ever think that Dean wasn’t hopelessly, head over heels in love with him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean ran his hands through his hair and let out a grumpy huff of air. He would figure it out. He would find a way to tell him, and everything would be okay; he just needed a little more time to throw something together. Cas would understand and Dean could get over himself and just kiss him already. But for now, he would start with making dinner for tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the kitchen, he started pulling out ingredients for spaghetti. Not a big dinner; after all, he had to leave the big dinner idea for when he could convince Cas to join him on the roof. He had no idea how he planned to do that, but that was something he would deal with when he got the other logistics set up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t take him too long to get dinner going. Pasta boiled in a pot over the stove while garlic bread cooked in the oven. Sauce got mixed with simmered onions and a satisfying, mouth-watering aroma filled the room. He was so caught up in cooking, that he didn’t even hear Cas come in; didn’t know he was close until he leaned against the fridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas! Jesus Christ, we’ve got to get you a bell or something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas smiled; Dean’s heart fluttered to a stop in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t my intention to scare you, Dean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had his name always sounded so different coming from Cas? He sputtered out a laugh with a shake of his head to break the tension.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously man, a bell.” Dean tried his hardest to keep the pink from his cheeks but he was sure that wasn’t working. So instead of looking at Cas, he turned back towards the food. He stirred the sauce, making sure that nothing simmered too long and stuck to the bottom of the pan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are bells a popular accessory nowadays?” Cas asked, a smile in his voice to match the one on his lips. Dean nearly choked on his own spit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dropped his head and let out a breathy laugh instead. “This is why I love you.” He laughed again and stirred the sauce. It was gonna taste great, he was sure of it. He was actually excited to see what Cas thought of it now that he could really taste things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean lifted his eyes from where he was stirring. Cas looked shell-shocked. Like he had seen a ghost; if that metaphor still held any ground for people who had seen all the things that they had in their time. Dean couldn’t understand what he was so confused about until - </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I love you’.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He had said it. It fled from his lips unbidden, nearly unnoticed; as if it really was the easiest thing in the world to say. He said it over a comment about bell, for fuck’s sake. There was supposed to be a plan; a big gesture to apologize for being such a dumbass before he told him. Instead, he stumbled into a confession while he mixed pasta sauce on the stove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas, I - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh man, what’s for dinner?” came the booming voice of a hungry younger brother. “Smells really good, Dean.” Sam walked in further, Jack coming in a few steps behind him looking just as interested in the food as Sam. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looked between Cas’s broken face and his brother. Sam seemed to pick up on the tension then, but before he could back out, Cas started moving away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck! No! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas, wait - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me know when it’s ready; I think I’m going to shower before dinner.” Cas spoke quickly and left the room even faster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I interrupt something?” Sam asked. Jack was looking between the doorway and the brothers. Unsure of which way he should go, he stayed where he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s fine, Sammy.” Dean went back to what he had been doing before Cas came in. He added spices and seasonings to the tomato base and he drained the pasta when it was no longer crunchy. The garlic bread came out of the oven as soon as he got the plates set out and he barely waited a minute for it to cool before deciding to cut it. When everything was ready and meals were sectioned out onto separate dishes, Jack went off to get Cas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas joined them for dinner still, but no one seemed to talk much. Both Sam and Jack had picked up on the weird atmosphere by now and neither Dean nor Cas had attempted to clear the air themselves. It wouldn’t be right to do it with them around. So, they ate in silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas headed off to his room almost as soon as he had finished his plate. It hurt to watch him go; to see him flee the room the second he got the chance to be farther away from him. Dean ignored the hollowed out feeling growing in his chest as he cleaned up dinner and he ignored his brother’s comments and attempts to talk. When everything was cleaned up and the crowd had dispersed back to their rooms, Dean pulled a beer from the fridge and headed off down towards his own room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He locked the door behind him and opened the bottle. It was cold against his mouth and it tasted just the same as it always did. A liquid stream of novocaine for the heart. He downed almost half the bottle before he made it to his bed. After plugging in his headphones and drinking the rest, he really wished he had grabbed more than one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Familiar music floated into his ears; soothing advice he’s heard a thousand times if he’s heard it once. He let the guitar and melodies settle the rocking boat in his chest, handing over the reins to the seasoned crew. He heard no knocking at his door with the music so loud; so if Cas came by, he didn’t know it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over an hour later, still wound and in need of another drink, Dean paused the music. Deciding it might be best to grab something a little stronger, he got up and made his way to his door. He unlocked it, swung it open wide, and - saw Cas, eyes closed, head leaned back against the wall on the other side of the hallway, arms draped over his knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas’s eyes opened slowly, as if he could have possibly been enjoying that little nap despite the obvious discomfort of a resting place like that. As soon as he registered Dean though, he got up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean. We need to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, shit; guess it was time he lost everything for good. He never even got a real taste of what it could be like first, but he supposed he should be used to the way the world worked for him by now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mind if I grab a drink first?” he asked, daring to raise a finger towards the direction of the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would prefer if you didn’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded and stepped aside to make room for Cas to come in. He said goodbye to his previous hopes of happy endings and shut the door behind his friend when he was safely inside his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood, Cas’s back to Dean and Dean’s eyes on Cas, for a few long seconds. Dean was convinced it had been at least a half an hour before Cas finally turned to him, but he knew it was more likely that it barely reached the full minute mark. He’s dealt with eternities shorter than the wait for Cas to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you mean?” were the first words out of those chapped lips. The urge to kiss him was back again, burning low in his stomach to the sound of Cas’s voice. The man didn’t even realize what that voice did to him; it was so unfair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did I mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What you said earlier; what did you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” He had already said it once for fuck’s sake, why was it getting stuck in his throat still? Why was something that came to him so easily still so hard to say?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you didn’t mean it, I need to know, Dean, I - I may still be getting used to feeling things as humans do, but I need to know how to deal with this if… if you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant it.” Dean said and Cas stopped himself, cut off and caught out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant what I said, Cas.” Dean swallowed. If his throat meant to stop him this time, it was going to have to try harder. His heart was hammering away in his chest, beating out a tune to a song he hadn’t heard in years. Every broken bone, every mended tear in his flesh, every bruise and scar and hole left behind ached in him again. Every inch of him screamed how much he loved him; he finally let himself do the same. “I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas’s breath hitched; Dean watched as his face shifted between stages of disbelief and hope. Then he realized that he didn’t want to watch anymore; he wanted to feel, he wanted to taste. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean took the space between them and crumpled it up at their feet. His hands came up on either side of Cas’s face and seeing him end up on hope gave him the final push. He leaned in and pressed their lips together and - oh, this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Slightly chapped lips shouldn’t feel so good against his own, but he barely registered their scratch when Cas’s stubble burned so good. It was rough and it was sweet; a tarnished piece of Heaven left glowing just for him. Cas tasted like every time he had ever laughed and every sunny day he’d felt warm his skin. He was numbing blocks of ice used for injuries and the fire in his chest when he drinks. He was more than that, too. Cas was honey-sweetened iced tea; he was freshly baked pie. He was home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Cas’s hands held tightly onto his shirt above his waist and the other came up to the back of Dean’s head, fingers moving into his hair. Deft hands tilted Dean’s head to give him a better angle. Cas hummed into his mouth and Dean’s knees just about buckled. He opened his mouth for him and Cas took over. He took any doubt Dean had in his mind away with the swipe of his tongue. Teeth nipped at Dean’s bottom lip and he groaned into the kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas…” He breathed, parting their lips for only the moment he could steal for a breath before Cas dragged him back in. He was intoxicating. More addictive than the liquor on his shelves; stronger than it too. He could feel Cas’s hands start to roam, to shift. Dean wanted more; he wanted anything and everything Cas would give to him. They have waited far too long for this and though he knew it was mostly his fault, he wasn’t ready to waste any more time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of trying to speak, Dean stepped forward, feet shuffling beside Cas’s until they were against the bed. And down they went; falling together onto a bed that would remember them much the same as Cas had fallen, as Dean had fallen for him. Dean landed on top, knees framing Cas’s sides as the kiss broke. Cas’s hands were immediately on his thighs, sliding up from his knees up and over his hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean…” Cas said reverently. If Dean had ever wondered what an angel would sound like if they prayed, this would be it. The soft break in his voice, the strong grumble hidden underneath. Cas spoke with such grit that he nearly came in his pants just from hearing his name. “What do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, an easy question. It’s not like he hadn’t been imagining this for years now, like he hadn’t spent quite a few nights with his fingers in his ass, wishing. “I want you to fuck me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas’s breath left his body in a hiss as his fingers tightened over Dean’s hips. Dean took that opportunity to grind his hips down on Cas’s and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span> what a </span>
  <em>
    <span>filthy</span>
  </em>
  <span> noise that drew from his lips. Dean could feel himself growing possessive over noises like that; if he could make an angel of the lord fall into his bed and scream his name louder than he ever prayed for revelation, well then, how could he ever grow tired of that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas didn’t seem to want to waste time either; he slid his hands up under Dean’s shirt, fingers gliding up and over his nipples. Another breath was hissed into the air but this time it came from Dean’s parted lips. Cas rolled them between his fingers, softly pressing, and Dean shifted his hips down again. A second filthy groan scratched its way out of his throat and Cas decided that that was about enough of that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Dean was on his back; Cas’s hands around his waist tugging the shirt over his head. Cas’s shirt followed before they each tugged off their pants and boxers. Dean had always thought Cas was smaller than him somehow. Despite knowing his true form was bigger than he could ever hope to perceive, he had always seemed smaller than him. But now, bare and flushed and hard against him, Cas seemed much larger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Cas…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I plan to.” Cas’s voice was rougher, on the edge of undone but expertly held together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas’s hands travelled over Dean’s chest in soft motions. One found its way to up to his shoulder, mimicking the old scar burned into his skin over a decade ago. “Do you even have any idea how beautiful you are?” Cas asked, eyes still roaming over Dean’s body. He should feel exposed under a gaze like that, but it just made him hungry for more. He could feel himself leaking against his stomach already and if they didn’t get this show on the road he wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas, c’mon…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The firm hand pressed into his shoulder once more before abandoning its post and skating down his torso. It didn’t stop until it reached his hip again. Cas kneeled back on his legs and his breath danced over Dean’s hardened cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to taste you, Dean. May I?” Cas licked his lips then, eyes cast up towards Dean’s. Innocent baby blues asked so nicely and Dean was powerless to disagree. He nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna need you to say it, Dean. Tell me you want me to know how you taste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, where the Hell was this coming from? </span>
  </em>
  <span>If Dean had known it could be like this, he might have gotten over himself a long time ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Cas, I - I want you to taste me.” He had to bite his lip to keep from groaning after that but it made no difference when Cas’s mouth was on him. Hot, wet lips pressed firm kisses up his length to the head, and then they were around him and Cas was practically breathing him in and Dean couldn’t see the walls of his room, only the stars behind his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept on until Dean felt himself building from low in his gut. It took every ounce of will power he had to whine and get Cas to let him come back down. The cocky grin on his lover’s spit-slicked lips did nothing to lower that pressure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where the Hell did you learn how to do that?” Dean asked, hoping a hint of conversation could stow his orgasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have been quite frustrating since I got back, you know. I had to watch a lot of videos by myself.” Cas swiped the back of his hand across his lips as he spoke and </span>
  <em>
    <span>good lord</span>
  </em>
  <span> how was he supposed to calm himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… you watched porn?” This whole time Dean’s been agonizing over what to say and how to say it, Cas has been a few doors down, getting off to other men on a screen because he couldn’t have Dean. God, what a fool he had been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m thankful I did; you seemed to enjoy that.” He grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck yeah, Cas; that was probably the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten. What the hell did you watch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A finger came up to trail through the spit left all over Dean’s cock. “I can show you later, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, Cas, yes, later. If you don’t fuck me right now, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas kissed him. Cut off his stream of begging to taste it for himself. Cas seemed to be a greedy lover and Dean was not about to complain. Having a former angel practically worship him in his bed would be enough to get anybody hooked, but he was hooked in more ways than one and what he needed right now was for that former angel to get his cock in his ass right this second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas seemed to understand his need, and though Dean would have to remember to ask later how he knew there would be condoms and lube in the side drawer, he didn’t have the presence of mind to question it. The lid of the lube popped open and Dean listened, eyes screwed shut, as Cas poured it over his fingers. One hand took turns raising Dean’s knees off of the bed while the other was otherwise occupied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel those thick fingers against his ass a moment later, circling in small movements over his hole, daring to add just a hint of pressure. “You ready?” Cas asked, low and husky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Cas, I’m ready, just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pressure turned into a sharp sort of pain that quickly melted into familiar pleasure. Cas’s fingers felt bigger than his own, but maybe that was also the angle. Dean tried to keep his breathing steady as Cas pumped his finger in and out of him. Cas curled the pad of his finger towards the palm of his hand and Dean whimpered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, what a lovely sound.” Cas praised, repeating the motion to pull another strangled pout from Dean’s lips. “Do you like making pretty noises for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel it coiling in his groin again and he was desperate to stop it. “Yes, Cas, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you gotta-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know. I’ve got to fuck you, don’t I? That’s what you want?” Cas added in another finger, causing another bundle of sounds to come tumbling out of him. Dean had to look away and bite his lip hard not to come on the spot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Dean managed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Cas was toying with him now; a third finger joined the others, stretching him open as Dean was blindsided by pleasure. The name, the pressure, the fucking sound of Cas’s voice; it was all too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He begged. He was at his limit; if Cas didn’t hurry up, he was going to reach the finish line before Cas even got started. That appeared to be what he wanted to hear though, because the fingers that filled him up quickly left him empty. He could hear the tear of foil and the cap of the lube and he dared to open his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas was pumping himself just inches away from Dean’s ass. He was thick and coated in latex and lube and Dean found himself a little disappointed that he hadn’t asked to taste him too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas came up against him again, this time feeling much larger than the width of a few fingers. Dean was expecting him to talk to him again, to draw out the final push, to tease him some more, but it seemed Cas was far past that now. He was as needy as Dean felt and he didn’t wait a moment to press into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing in his life had ever felt as good as this. Cas was firm and sure and so fucking hot; every encounter before this paled in comparison. Stars invaded his vision once more as Cas bottomed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck…” The curse came from Cas’s lips; a real, not made up swear from the lips of tarnished divinity made his head swim. Dean was absolutely wrecked. “You feel so good, Dean.” He spoke again, words losing their stern tone as Heaven’s worst became humanity’s best. Cas moved then, pulling himself nearly all the way out just to slam his way back in. Dean was done for; utterly at his limit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cas, I’m close. I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another harsh pound reached a spot Cas had been holding back from and any hope of holding out flew out the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come for me.” Cas groaned, lips coming to rest against the shell of his ear. “Now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean didn’t have to be told twice. Finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> that warmth built and poured over. He came; Cas’s name on his tongue and his cock in his ass, he came. White spurts streamed over his chest as he moaned. Cas picked up the pace, blinding him in a way he never thought possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are so beautiful like this.” Cas muttered. His voice was strained and Dean was just starting to come back to his body when he felt Cas’s hips stutter against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All yours, Cas.” he said, eyes daring to open. Cas’s closed a second later, blue oceans disappearing on the shore as Cas came undone. He moaned into Dean’s ear as he jerked inside him and Dean wished he could feel the warmth of Cas filling him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed there for a minute before Cas pulled out of him. Dean was spent; thoroughly and totally spent. He couldn’t even protest when Cas slipped on his pants and out of the room. It was only for a moment, and it was only to dampen a cloth to clean them up, but Dean had never hated being alone more than then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Cas got them cleaned up and the pants had been discarded once more, he was back in his bed. Dean curled up against Cas’s side and just let himself be held. For the first time, Dean let himself be loved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe how stupid we were.” he said, his breath skating over Cas’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I spent so long hoping, I never even thought to ask.” Cas smiled, pressing a soft kiss into Dean’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean felt the same. He had so many thoughts, so many dreams and hopes and wishes, that he never thought to simply pray for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never in a million years would Dean Winchester have thought about the end in any way that wasn’t bloody. He had loved and lost far too many times to ever hold onto fickle strings of hope for a happy ending. But this? Being loved so completely by his own shard of Heaven? This was something he could have only dreamed of. Dean closed his eyes, arms tightening around a love he vowed to never let go of, and dreamed. </span>
</p>
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